


From the Mountains to the Sea

by manic_intent



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Full spoilers, M/M, That fix-it AU I needed to write after the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “What do you want?” Jin asked. Reddened marks blotched his cheek; his knuckles were split and bruised.Ryuzo whistled as he surveyed the damage. “You know the reason why Eiji and the others pick on you is because you won’t give their names to your uncle, right?”“My uncle would never ask for their names,” Jin said, lifting his chin. “A man must fight his own battles.”“You’re not a man; you’re a boy. Not even a very big one.” Ryuzo could look easily over Jin’s head as he was now.
Relationships: Ryuzo/Sakai Jin, Sakai Jin/Ryuzo
Comments: 33
Kudos: 258





	From the Mountains to the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Just finished Ghost of Tsushima… I have so many feels… I don’t even with this game. It’s one of the most beautiful games I’ve ever played. The ending set piece was so cinematic I took tons of photos. Went to sleep shattered and woke up still full of ~feels so, fic it is. If you have a PS4, I cannot recommend this game enough. If you don’t, here’s the opening cinematic that gives you an idea https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KV_XtfNkOlY of the setting and the main character. 
> 
> Full spoilers.
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> While I enjoyed the Ryuzo arc, he is p irredeemable in the game, especially after Act 2 (Taka nooo!!). That Childhood Friends to Enemies to Lovers thing is my jam though, so here is an AU with a different Act 2 outcome, especially since Jin mourns what happened to Ryuzo for the rest of the game (if you reflect on Ryuzo in an onsen, and also in postgame when you look at his relic in the house). I loved how the game ended and wouldn’t change any part of it, but I just needed to make some wound balm for now.

The boy curled by the moss-covered fox statue looked up warily as Ryuzo squeezed through the gap in the rock. But for his fine clothes, the Jitō’s nephew looked little different from the others. Skinny kid, soft chin. Cried a lot at night, according to castle gossip. The boy didn’t look that soft, close up: as Ryuzo got to his feet, he stood as well and clenched his fists. 

“What do you want?” Jin asked. Reddened marks blotched his cheek; his knuckles were split and bruised. 

Ryuzo whistled as he surveyed the damage. “You know the reason why Eiji and the others pick on you is because you won’t give their names to your uncle, right?” 

“My uncle would never ask for their names,” Jin said, lifting his chin. “A man must fight his own battles.”

“You’re not a man; you’re a boy. Not even a very big one.” Ryuzo could look easily over Jin’s head as he was now. 

Jin bristled. “If you’re here to fight, fine. Let’s move. We shouldn’t fight here.” 

“Why? It’s a quiet spot.”

“It’s a sacred place. The messenger of the Gods will be upset.” 

“What messenger?” Ryuzo asked, even as a big fox poked its head out from the leafy shrub shading the shrine, peering keenly at them both. It let out a soft yip and darted down to sit by Jin’s feet, its body a bright tongue of red flame against the moss and stone. “You tamed a fox?”

“They’re not tame.” Jin tickled the fox behind its ears. It shook itself in pleasure, then scampered out through the gap. “Outside.”

“I’m not here to fight. I’m here to ask if you want to catch some eels.” 

“With me? Why? I don’t know you.” 

“Eiji picks on you because you always try to fight back and he picks on me because my father’s one of his family retainers,” Ryuzo said, folding his arms. “We should ally against a common enemy.”

“His father is a friend of my uncle. He’s not my enemy.” 

“A common annoyance, then.” Ryuzo waited, but Jin merely stared at him uncertainly. Frustrated, Ryuzo exhaled. “Never mind. Stay here if you want.” He squeezed out from the rock and began to head for the river, only to hesitate as Jin scraped through behind him. Jin didn’t say a word, but he followed, staying a few steps behind Ryuzo as Ryuzo picked his way over to his favourite stream. 

Boisterous laughter slowed Ryuzo to a halt close to his favourite spot. He crouched down behind a bush and peered out, muttering a curse under his breath. Eiji and his minions had found his fishing gear, laughing as they tossed bits of bait into the grass. He flinched as Jin walked up beside him, hastily dragging down the other boy before they were both spotted. “Shh.” Ryuzo put a finger to his lips. 

“Are those your things?” Jin asked, lowering his voice. He scowled, his hand clenched tight on the wooden bokken training sword in his obi. “They have no right. If you want to confront them, I’ll back you up.”

“Two of us against five of them isn’t going to amount to much. They’re older than us and much bigger.” 

Jin lowered his head, his hand tightening until the knuckles whitened. “I’m sorry. I should be stronger.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re the youngest here. Be quiet. I’ll show you something.” Ryuzo hunted around the undergrowth until he found what he was looking for. Sneaking a glance back at Jin to check that the other kid was staying put, Ryuzo stole over to the shrubs closest to Eiji and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. “A viper! Ahhh! I’ve been bitten! A viper!” As he cried out, he threw his find into the boys’ midst. 

Frozen at first, Eiji and the others jumped and screamed, dropping their finds and rushing away at full pelt into the woods. Ryuzo waited until they were out of sight before rolling out of the shrub in fits of laughter, only for Jin to kneel beside him, frantically patting him down. “You were bitten? Where? Stay here. I’ll fetch the doctor—”

“I’m fine.” Ryuzo gestured at the stream, where the jagged piece of wood that he’d thrown out lay on the sand.

“You _lied_ ,” Jin said, incredulous. 

“No, I was composing a haiku on the spot, and they mistook my delivery for something else.” 

“That’s not like any haiku I’ve ever heard.” 

Ryuzo got to his feet, brushing grass off his clothes. “That was a joke.”

“A bad joke,” Jin said. His lips pressed in a thin line. 

“Wasn’t it funny watching Eiji and the others run off like startled rabbits?”

“No! I thought a real snake had bitten you. You.” Jin’s mouth began to twitch at the edges. “I can’t believe you did that.” 

“I’d do more if it means being able to catch some fat eels for dinner in peace.” Ryuzo hunted around the grass for the bits of eel bait he’d prepared earlier in the day, glancing up as Jin bent to help him. “Interested in fishing after all?” 

“I… yes.” Jin looked him in the eye, serious as ever. “Sakai Jin.” 

“I know who you are. I’m Ryuzo,” Ryuzo said. “Do you know how to fish?” 

“No.” 

“What a useful friend you’re turning out to be,” Ryuzo said and laughed as Jin reddened and began to protest. “That was another joke. A bad one. Sit, sit. I’ll show you how to bait a hook.”

#

“Again,” Jin said as Ryuzo pulled him to his feet. Fallen leaves crunched underfoot, their fragments sticking to their hakama.

“Maa, I’m thirsty.” 

“Drink some water.” Jin gestured at the jug and cups on the side of the sparring ground beside the river. 

“I’m also hungry,” Ryuzo complained. “We’ve been at this all morning. Let’s go fishing. If you want to hit things with a bokken, ride back to Castle Shimura and bother your uncle for another lesson.” 

“He’s busy.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“I’m trying to understand why you win all the time when we spar,” Jin said, his round face creasing in frustration. “I train harder than you do. I’ve been training most of my life: my father used to make me carry pails of water from this river to the cemetery when I was eight.”

Grumbling, Ryuzo stalked over to the jug and poured himself some water. “When you invited me to go riding with you over to your family’s estates I thought we’d be going hunting or fishing. More fool me for thinking that you might be looking to have some fun for once.” 

“We can go hunting after another round.” 

Ryuzo downed the cup of water. “You want to know why I keep beating you? Tell me, Sakai- _sama_. Why do you train?” 

“To become a worthy samurai, in honour of my uncle’s trust in me,” Jin said unhesitatingly. He glowered at Ryuzo as he said this. “It isn’t true that he’d throw me away once he has a son of his own. He’s told me so.” 

Ryuzo held up a finger. “Firstly, that was something I said for your own good. You were born Lord Sakai. You being born to your actual father means that you have this huge piece of land and all these people to look after—you should keep that in mind instead of spending your time trying to become someone else’s son.”

Jin flushed. “I know that.” 

“I didn’t think you’d get so upset that you’d run away from the castle,” Ryuzo said, exasperated. “Or tell your uncle that I was the one who said it.” 

“He said something to you?” 

“Your uncle isn’t a vindictive man. But word got around that his precious nephew ran off because of a thing that his friend said, which narrows down the field, doesn’t it?” It’d meant a stern talking-to from Ryuzo’s father, despite the man being largely confined to a sickbed nowadays. It’d meant an attempted beating from Eiji and the others, one that Ryuzo had escaped from only because he’d long learned how to traverse the castle via its rooftops. 

It meant Ryuzo couldn’t rely on the Shimura family or its attendant samurai for his keep, or even for a promotion to the ranks of samurai himself. It wasn’t true that Jin trained harder than Ryuzo: Ryuzo just preferred to do his training by himself. “Never mind that,” Ryuzo said, as Jin just looked confused. “Honour, worth, justice, bushido, all those are distant things in times of peace.”

“They’re part of being a samurai.”

“Sure. But you don’t seem to fight like you’d die for them. That’s what I mean. You aren’t hungry enough for the win because you don’t have something you’re fighting for,” Ryuzo said. Even if Jin never amounted to anything more than a mediocre swordsman, even if Lord Shimura cast him aside, Jin would never go hungry. Would never want for anything. His birthright assured him of that. Ryuzo envied him sometimes, but envy was a pointless thing: it fed no one.

“…I see.” Jin lifted his bokken, shifting his feet. “Again.” 

“Hai, hai. But we’d better be going fishing after this.”

#

“Smells amazing,” Jin said as he found Ryuzo by the river grilling fresh-caught fillets of eel over a grill he’d twisted together out of leftover steel from the smithy, balanced over hot coals.

“You’re late. Did you bring the sake?” 

Jin raised the cask and cups. “Here. Can I help?”

“No, you’d just get in the way. Sit.” 

Jin knelt close to the fire, sleeves folded gracefully over his lap, straight-backed and handsome in his beautiful clothes. Jin might not be the Jitō’s son, but he looked the part. Nearly as tall as Ryuzo now, and stronger, Jin had improved immensely as a sparring partner. Ryuzo wasn’t sure where Jin found the time. Now that they were no longer children, Lord Shimura involved Jin more and more in matters of governance and politics, clearly grooming him for something more than just being the head of a samurai clan. While Ryuzo? Well. Ryuzo would just have to open his own path.

"Where did you learn how to cook?” Jin asked as they ate. “You’re as good as the cooks in the castle.” 

“Ah? That’s a surprise.” 

“It’s true,” Jin said so very seriously, with the tone of someone who’d never had to learn flattery, never had to learn charm. 

“My mother passed away early, and my father was too busy to feed me, then he started to get sick,” Ryuzo said. His father had finally passed last winter, drowning in his breath, lingering long enough to ensure that Ryuzo would inherit nothing. Medicine was expensive.

“I never knew,” Jin said. The pity in his eyes had always been annoying to face. Ryuzo sniffed, pouring himself another cup of sake. “Ryuzo, if you need anything, you can always ask me.” 

“I don’t want to have that kind of ‘friendship’,” Ryuzo said. Asking Jin for money would be easy, but Ryuzo had seen what that did to friendships. As much as he envied Jin, sometimes resented him, Jin was also Ryuzo’s oldest, greatest friend. He valued that if nothing else. Besides, Ryuzo had his pride to consider.

Jin smiled warmly at him. “Sometimes I think you’re the only person I know who doesn’t care who I am,” Jin said. “The only person who doesn’t expect something of me.” 

“I already know you too well, that’s why.” Ryuzo poured out a cup of sake for Jin. “This is good sake. Did you steal it from your uncle?”

“ _Ryuzo_. Of course I didn’t steal it! I asked.” 

“It was a joke. Your sense of humour is as bad as ever.”

Jin frowned at him. “As are your jokes.” 

“Your sword arm’s improved, I hope? Now that you’re almost always too busy to spar.” 

“Has yours?” Jin shot back. 

“We should hold a duel, a proper one,” Ryuzo said, eating instead of meeting Jin’s eyes. His eagerness might betray him otherwise. “In Castle Shimura. Your uncle can host it. That way we can have a decent fight, then all the good sake we can drink.” 

“A duel?” Jin said, surprised. “Over what?” 

“People are allowed to duel for fun. We won’t be fighting to the death. Don’t you want to show your uncle how far you’ve come? You’re better than Eiji and the others now.” 

That clinched it for Jin—he nodded slowly. “I’ll speak to my uncle and let you know when he agrees on a date.” 

“Make it at least a week from now, so there can be an actual feast. That way I can compare my cooking to the castle’s kitchen,” Ryuzo said with a nod at the cooling coals. 

“This is a lot better. You’ll see.” Jin polished off his eel and began to suck his fingers clean. Ryuzo glanced at him then and wished that he hadn’t—something about the way Jin’s mouth pressed over each digit lit a strange warmth in his belly. The same peculiar warmth he felt now and then whenever they locked bokken in a fight, when he got close enough to see the strain in every line of Jin’s honed body, primed to strike. 

Ryuzo looked away with a slow breath and let the warmth go, the way he always did. “Tell them to make an effort, then.” He had letters to write, lords to invite. By the end of the friendly duel, Jin would have his uncle’s approval and Ryuzo would have taken his first step away toward a better life. The thought was lonelier than it should be. “Drink. Then we fight. Then we drink some more.”

#

A shadow drew over over Ryuzo, shading the sun away from his eyes. Ryuzo looked up, blinking slowly. He’d had rather too much sake on an empty stomach now, and his head was starting to swim. He tried to focus as the stranger knelt beside him by the river: an ascetic man in a round straw hat, clad in a dark blue hakama, a well-used if plain katana thrust through his obi. No tanto. Ryuzo rubbed his eyes.

“Good fight,” said the man. 

Ryuzo let out a hoarse laugh. Somehow, he’d managed to thoroughly underestimate Jin, despite having been Jin’s duelling partner for most of their lives. His entire body ached with the bruising Jin had given him, though that didn’t hurt as much as his pride. “Which part?”

“You held your own. There’s no shame in losing to a better swordsman.” 

“If you call that holding my own,” Ryuzo said, tipping back the cup. Jin had come at him with a singular ferocity that Ryuzo had never seen from his grave and serious friend before. It had startled him so much that he’d nearly lost during the first bout. Things hadn’t gone much better from there. “Do you know, years ago I told him he wasn’t any good because he didn’t have anything he was seriously fighting for?” 

“People change. He had little to prove before, but not any longer. Wasn’t that the point of this duel?”

“It was my idea,” Ryuzo said. Some good that had done. All the lords he’d invited had fallen over themselves to congratulate Jin, sparing Jin’s defeated friend little heed. It’d been hard to take, so Ryuzo had taken a small cask of sake and walked away. “I thought I might be able to impress someone enough to earn a way out from here.” 

“You have.” The stranger inclined his head. He smiled, a sharp, wolfish smile with a hunger that Ryuzo recognised. He saw it in himself sometimes when he looked into a mirror. “My name is Kosei. I lead the Straw Hat Ronin.” 

“Ronin,” Ryuzo repeated, incredulous as he looked Kosei over again. “How did you get into the castle?”

“Ronin go where we like. Besides, the Straw Hats have a long-standing contract with Lord Watanabe, a close friend of mine. He invited me along.”

Ryuzo had written a letter to Lord Watanabe—one of his preferred prospects, a lord of a prosperous holding further to the south. He looked to Kosei hopefully. “You know Lord Watanabe that well?”

Kosei let out a dry laugh. “Your name is Ryuzo, isn’t it? Ryuzo, listen to me. In this world, if you want to become a samurai, it isn’t enough to be good with a sword or be friends with a lord. Were I ever in trouble and sent word, Lord Watanabe would ride out to save me. Yet he will never name someone like me to the ranks of the samurai, let alone a boy he does not know. Do you think your friend, Lord Sakai, is any different?” 

Ryuzo grimaced. He should have thought that through—he’d been naive. Even if he’d beaten Jin, would that have changed anything? He drank, closing his eyes. “Someone like you?”

“A man of unlucky birth. As are you, I believe.” 

Ryuzo toasted Kosei ironically. “To people of unlucky birth.” 

“Sometimes we help each other,” Kosei said, pulling a gourd from his obi and taking a long drag from it. “I’m always looking for good swordsmen. A ronin's life might not be one that you hoped for, but it’s not that different. We get paid, we eat well, drink well. It doesn’t matter whether you’re born a peasant or a lord: with us, your sword and your bow will do the talking. That’s what I promise all my men.” 

“Sounds fun,” Ryuzo said. It wasn’t a lie. What Kosei promised was a freer life, in a way. What good would it be to become another lord’s retainer? Ryuzo had seen what that had done to his father. “Thank you.” 

“You remind me of myself,” Kosei said with a wry, hard smile. “From a long time ago.”

#

Attached to Lord Watanabe’s muster, the Straw Hats staked out a corner of the orderly encampment for themselves. There wouldn’t be enough time to roast a whole boar, so Ryuzo quartered it down instead, roasting the racks, smoking the loins, stewing the haunches. Kosei hovered over his shoulder and had to be chased off before he sampled anything uncooked. Couldn’t risk poisoning their leader before a major battle.

As Ryuzo checked on the loins, Kosei said, “Lord Sakai.” 

Ryuzo looked up sharply. Jin smiled at him from the boundary of the Straw Hat encampment, dressed in red and black Shimura armour. “Kosei, good to have you here. I was hoping that Ryuzo had the time for a drink.” 

Ryuzo glanced at Kosei, who gave him a tiny shrug. “One drink,” Ryuzo said, getting to his feet and wishing he didn’t now smell of roast boar. Jin made no comment as he led them through the encampment to the tents marked with the Shimura insignia. As they ducked into a tent, Ryuzo said, “Congratulations.” 

Jin gave him a startled look. “For?” 

Ryuzo gestured at Jin’s armour. “Shimura colours? Did your uncle finally adopt you?” 

“No. I asked for the honour of wearing his clan colours into battle.” 

“…Even though you have your own,” Ryuzo said. 

“You know why.” 

“Never mind.” Ryuzo had never quite understood Jin’s consuming guilt about being unable to ‘save’ his father, a renowned swordsman, from his murderer at the tender age of ten. As far as Ryuzo was concerned, Jin should’ve been grateful to still be alive. “I hope you brought good sake.” 

“Good enough.” Jin waved Ryuzo to a seat on some boxes and found sake and cups from a chest. “We haven’t spoken since the duel. I wanted to talk to you afterwards, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. Yuriko said she saw you leave with Lord Watanabe’s retinue. I thought you might have earned employment in his holding, but the letter I sent there addressed to you was returned unopened.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ryuzo said. Friendly as Lord Watanabe was with Kosei, his retinue always made it clear that they only grudgingly tolerated the ronin. “No, I didn’t ‘earn’ employment there.” 

“I noticed when I searched his section of the camp for you and found you with Kosei.” Jin’s gaze flicked uncomfortably over Ryuzo’s dark hakama and straw hat. “Why did you become one of the Straw Hats?” 

Ryuzo let out an incredulous laugh. “What option did I have, after you embarrassed me in front of all those fine lords?” 

“At the duel?”

“Obviously at the duel. Jin, you came at me as though I was your mortal enemy! You nearly broke my arm. After that, everyone just wanted to talk to the Jitō’s nephew.” 

“…I’m sorry,” Jin said, dropping his gaze. “It was my first duel, and I got carried away. You could’ve come to me.” 

“Life with the Straw Hats sounded fun,” Ryuzo said. Three years had been more fun than he’d imagined, riding around Tsushima with his new family, working and drinking. The large family that he’d never thought he could have. 

“I’m glad that you’re here,” Jin said, pouring Ryuzo a cup. ‘I’ve missed you.” 

Ryuzo looked into Jin’s earnest face. The strange warmth he used to felt years ago was back—worse, it’d intensified, turning into its own form of hunger. He toasted Jin and knocked back the cup, glancing away. “If you’ve missed my cooking, we might have an extra spot for you by the fire. If you ask nicely. And pay.” 

Jin laughed—the years had taught Jin to laugh. For one irrational moment, Ryuzo was jealous. Jealous over whoever Jin might have met in the time they’d been apart, angry over the span of time where they’d effectively been strangers. “I think of you sometimes when I’m in an onsen. Thinking ‘maa, Ryuzo should be here! Him and his bad jokes, bragging over the size of the latest fish that he pulled out of the river’.” 

“I missed you too,” Ryuzo admitted. He couldn’t specify why, even with a cup of sake sitting uneasily within his empty stomach. He’d missed the long rides they used to take out in the woods, their sparring matches, the fishing and hunting, their poorly played games of shogi, their feckless escapades climbing up and down cliffs and trees. “Though I can’t say that I’m happy to be here. I don’t like the odds.” 

“We have many great swordsmen in our ranks. Including you.” 

“Who taught flattery to the unbending boy I knew?” Ryuzo asked, amused. 

“It isn’t flattery. You’ve always been great.” 

The warmth rolled over Ryuzo like the tide, bringing with it a hungry, dangerous want that pulsed in his loins. He finished his cup and set it aside, getting to his feet. “I’d better get back before the meat burns. Thanks for the sake. Good luck tonight on the battlefield.” 

“Ryuzo.” Jin got to his feet as well, clasping Ryuzo’s arm, cheeks reddened from the sake. 

“What?” Ryuzo prompted after an awkward silence.

“…We should talk. After the battle.” Jin clapped Ryuzo’s shoulder. 

Back with the Straw Hats, Kosei said, “What did Lord Sakai want?”

“To have a drink with an old friend. I’m surprised _you_ aren’t drinking with Lord Watanabe,” Ryuzo said as he made a beeline back to the fire. 

“The lords are busy toasting each other. Most of them, anyway. While I’m hungry.” Kosei looked hopefully at the ribs. “Are those done yet?”

“No… wait. One of the cuts is missing. Kosei!”

#

By the time Ryuzo and the surviving Straw Hats rode into their encampment, he was ready to collapse. Exhausted and heartsick, he all but fell off his horse, staggering over to the nearest pallet and burying his head in his hands. It’d been a godsdamned disaster, just as Kosei had predicted. Badly outnumbered, facing a far more ruthless force, the samurai of Tsushima had been slaughtered to a man, their blood turning the sand into a black slurry.

“I don’t believe,” Ryuzo kept gasping under his breath. “I don’t believe it.” Daiki, Kosuke, Yuma… far too many of them cut down in the first clash. And _Kosei_. Damn that old man. Instructing Ryuzo to lead a retreat if the tide of battle turned too far, but charging into the frontlines himself? The hell was that for? There was no saving Lord Watanabe or anyone. Not even Jin. When Lord Adachi had ridden down to the Mongol ranks to challenge them to single combat and the Khan had simply set him on fire, Ryuzo had already known that they would lose. Somehow, he still hadn’t expected such a slaughter. 

He flinched as someone knelt beside him. Kojiro the Kensei, the best swordsman in the Straw Hats. Usually, there was an unsettling air around Kojiro that made Ryuzo avoid him the way he avoided being close to a wild hawk, but today he was too drained to care. “We’ve lost half our men,” Kojiro said.

“Kuso,” Ryuzo whispered, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“You did well, considering the circumstances. Your first true battle.” 

“That wasn’t a battle, that was a slaughter. Kosei…” Ryuzo trailed off with a gulped breath. He’d liked Kosei—all the Straw Hats did. Despite his occasional brusqueness and strange habits, Kosei was one of the most likeable people Ryuzo had ever met. He’d held the unruly ronin together through sheer force of personality, even though he wasn’t anywhere near the best swordsman in the Straw Hats. 

“Kosei is dead. You did what you were told. Saved more of us than I thought possible.” 

“You and Kanetomo and the others helped.” Ryuzo had directed Kojiro and the best swordsmen in the Straw Hats to the front, including himself, forming a wedge that had driven back through the front lines and broken out of the Mongol encirclement. “Kosei should still be here.” 

“He’d never have left Lord Watanabe’s side.” 

“Yet he told us to save ourselves? Surely his loyalty wasn’t that set in stone.”

Kojiro gave Ryuzo a look of surprise. “You didn’t know? They’ve been friends most of their lives and lovers for half of it. Why do you think Kosei goes to the Watanabe clan estates so often?” 

Ryuzo let out a shaky breath. That made things worse, somehow. Kosei dead, and Jin… Ryuzo’s eyes stung anew. “What will happen to us now?”

“The Straw Hats will need a new leader.” 

Ryuzo nodded. “You’d do well.” 

“Not I,” Kojiro said, tilting his head. “You.” 

“Me? You’ve been with the Straw Hats for years longer. You’re the finest swordsman we have.” 

“Kosei entrusted you with his plans for a reason. Everyone knows that. Also, I’m leaving. Going north with Tomotsugu and the rest while we still can.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I know what’s coming now that the samurai have been wiped out,” Kojiro said with a thin smile. “No offence, but we’d be better off splitting up. Best of luck.”

#

On hindsight, Jin surviving despite all odds wasn’t a surprise. Nor was his decision to do whatever it took to free his uncle from the Mongols. Gods, it was even working. Ryuzo had underestimated Jin once, and it looked like it’d become a bad habit. They went for a walk away from the Straw Hats encampment, with Jin picking at the old dark blue hakama that Ryuzo had handed him to wear, his armour packed away onto his horse.

“I don’t recognise those clan colours on your new armour,” Ryuzo said. The armour was well-made, picked out in red and white. 

“The armour belonged to Clan Adachi, a gift from the mother of the one who no longer needed it. I had it dyed another colour with her blessing.”

“Clan Adachi survived?” Ryuzo could sometimes still hear Lord Adachi’s screams in his sleep as he had burned. 

“Not really. Someone conspired to attack the clan while we were at war. Killed everyone but Lady Masako, even her grandchildren.” 

“It would’ve been a planned attack, then. Waiting until the men were at war. Who was it? It couldn’t have been a rival clan.” Every Tsushima samurai clan had died on the beach as far as Ryuzo knew. The only survivors were Lord Shimura and Jin. 

“She’s still investigating.” Jin looked tired—he looked beyond exhaustion, burning on somehow on reserves. 

“When was the last time you slept?” Ryuzo asked. 

“A few hours last night, I think.” 

Ryuzo shook his head. He led Jin to the edge of the cliff, to the hidden handholds he’d found close to a stump. Jin gave him a questioning look but followed Ryuzo without question as they climbed down, the surf breaking beneath them against the cliff in a constant dull roar. The sea, eating into the ‘immovable’ mountain. 

The cave beneath a ledge was a hollowed-out nook that smugglers had long abandoned, with a space for a hearth, even old shelves built against the walls. Jin surveyed the pallet and the gourds of alcohol with surprise. “You sleep here away from your men?” 

“Only if I need the quiet.” He’d needed it more and more nowadays, now that he’d begun to understand why Kojiro had left north. It was hard enough feeding many people in times of peace, let alone now. Ryuzo tossed Jin one of the gourds and sat on the pallet with another. 

Jin took a sip and coughed. “What’s this made of?”

“You probably don’t want to know.” 

“It’s strong.” Jin drank some more and coughed again before sitting down beside Ryuzo. 

“I seriously thought you died on the beach.” If he’d known that Jin had survived… 

“It was a near thing. I thought the same thing about you. Running into you on the road was a shock. At first, I thought I’d seen a ghost.” 

“Do you normally try and crush the life out of your ghosts?” Jin had gone from gawking at Ryuzo to pulling him into a fierce bear hug, right into the clan armour he’d been wearing. “I was surprised to hear that you were _the_ Ghost. Surely your uncle isn’t going to approve.” 

“He can disapprove all he likes when he’s free.” 

“You’re one bad mistake away from death, if it’s just you, an old woman, a retired archer, and a thief against the Khan’s army.” 

“That’s why I need yours.”

“I don’t have an army. Kosei brought all of the Straw Hats to that battle, and it didn’t help.” 

“Yet many of you survived.” 

“Jin…” 

“I don’t begrudge that. Ryuzo, I meant it when I said it’s so good to see you again. I’m glad that you’re here. There was so much that I still wanted to say to you.” 

“Like what?” 

Jin drank, staring out of the cave at the sea. “It’ll keep. Until we feed your men and free my uncle.” 

“You make it sound so simple.” 

“It is to me,” Jin said, as unyielding as the twin mountains on the crest of his clan. When he said it, Ryuzo could almost believe it to be true.

#

Betraying Jin had been inevitable. Both of them surviving the betrayal was more unexpected. Let alone Jin somehow managing to take back Castle Kaneda with just his uncle and a handful of friends. Would it have mattered whether Ryuzo had been there? Jin’s run of luck felt divine, as inexplicable as the way foxes and the golden birds of the isle still tried to get his attention. The man had been born blessed. Ryuzo hated Jin for that sometimes. As the Khan passed him the burning torch and told Ryuzo to set the captives alight, he briefly imagined swinging it back at his face. Jin would have died rather than burn someone innocent alive. A long time ago, Ryuzo had thought that of himself too.

This was an effective way to crack open the fortified Castle Shimura with few casualties on all sides, Ryuzo told himself as the man he burned screamed and screamed, as the stench of burning hair and flesh choked him. The next staked in line wailed and pissed himself and bile rose in Ryuzo’s throat, along with the hollowed knowing that he had taken a step too far beyond redemption, away from any life he had ever wanted. When the gates of the castle opened, Ryuzo was on his knees, dazed more by regret than with relief.

What was one more betrayal after that? Luring Jin to a duel at Fort Koyasan and having someone knock him out—and yet despite Ryuzo’s words to the Khan, he knew Jin would never break. He’d see all his friends die for him first. Jin had finally found something worth fighting for. That was what made him the demon he was now. Everything he suffered would only make him worse, until he too took a step too far beyond redemption. That step was coming, Ryuzo could see that much. It was why he hid on a roof with a bow when the Khan gave Jin’s blacksmith friend a blade and asked the friend to kill Jin. It was why Ryuzo shot an arrow into the ropes binding Jin’s hands to the post as the friend shakily approached Jin with the blade. 

In the chaos, Ryuzo quietly retreated over the rooftops of the fort. Whether Jin and his friend now lived or died was up to him and his damnable luck. 

The Khan found Ryuzo drinking in his room, surrounded by skins. Airag was an acquired taste that Ryuzo had gotten used to over time. “Your friend escaped,” said the Khan. 

“He does that now and then,” Ryuzo said, looking up blearily at the Khan. “A ghost.” 

“He’s a man, not a ghost.” The Khan stared at Ryuzo coldly. “An arrow from a hidden archer freed him.” 

“That blacksmith you captured is the brother of an archer-thief, the woman who worked hard to save Jin from the beach. What more would she do for her brother?” 

“Thieves,” said the Khan, looking away and clenching his fists. “After tomorrow’s battle, I’ll be riding north. You will stay with General Qadan and defend the castle.”

“You could hold out Castle Shimura against the samurai. Especially with your tactics.”

“It’s not my tactics that concern me, and I’m not here to get involved in a protracted siege. Tsushima is not my goal.”

“The mainland,” Ryuzo said, closing his eyes. He’d never been to the mainland himself, only heard stories from Kosei and the others. He’d been hoping to visit Kyoto someday. By himself, or with company. He drank until the Khan walked away, until he could barely make out his fingers before his face. Strange. Even deadened by drink, guilt and regret still tore at him with flensing fingers.

#

Jin tensed as he saw Ryuzo seated on the edge of the slate roof. Below, the Mongols left stationed at Castle Shimura patrolled the garden and the courtyard, preparing for a feast with the morbid fervour of willing sacrifices. “Ryuzo,” Jin said, wary.

“You’re getting predictable, Lord Ghost,” Ryuzo said, raising a gourd of sake to his lips. “What’s the plan now, hm? Are you going to stab every Mongol in here in their sleep? Or…” He sniffed the air. Jin smelled intensely of— “Is that wolfsbane?”

Jin crouched down beside him. “A poison.” 

“I know what wolfsbane does. You’re out of your mind.”

“It’s a way to take the castle without any further casualties.” Jin’s face grew tight with anger. “That dirty trick with the bridge… and I see there are more explosives over there. More dirty tricks.” 

“You’re one to talk about dirty tricks.” Ryuzo gestured at Jin’s heavy pouches. “The Khan isn’t here, by the way. What you’d only achieve is poisoning a number of men that he’d already left here to die, and giving him a new weapon in the process that he’d use against everybody in the north.” 

Jin stared at Ryuzo. Slowly, he removed the scowling black mask on his face. Beneath it, Jin looked tired. “What choice do I have?” 

“Plenty, if you thought it over with your brain rather than with your rage.” 

“You’re one to talk about rage,” Jin said, his hands tensing into claws. “I should kill you for what you did.” 

“Which part?”

Jin shook his head, his lip curling. “Why did you free me? Yuna said it wasn’t her—she’d never left my uncle’s camp.” 

“You were about to die? I never wanted you dead. I asked the Khan not to kill you.” 

“Taka wouldn’t have hurt me. He was going to turn the blade on the Khan—I could see that in his eyes.”

“And how would that have worked out, hm? The Khan would’ve killed you both for that. Or worse.”

Jin closed his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. “Why are you here now?”

“The Khan left me to defend the castle. I’m trying to remember why I should. You’ve murdered most of the Straw Hats under my command and the rest deserted to become bandits. Not that I blame them.” Ryuzo lay down on his back on the roof, setting the gourd to his side as he looked up at the stars. “What a mess.”

“You should’ve sided with me when I asked. The first time, even the second time. My uncle—” 

“Your uncle would never have made me one of the samurai,” Ryuzo said with a low laugh. “The previous leader of the Straw Hats… you remember him?”

“Kosei, right? A friend of Lord Watanabe.”

“They were lovers. For years. What a bastard. Telling me to save the Straw Hats while he runs off to die beside a man who never loved him enough to do more than use him. He said I reminded him of himself, and it’s truer than he could’ve known. Sometimes I even envy him. At least he had many good years with Lord Watanabe before the end.”

“Ryuzo,” Jin said, blinking. 

“Doesn’t matter now,” Ryuzo said reflectively, raising the gourd to his mouth. Jin grabbed it from him, taking a long drag. “Hey. That’s the last of my decent sake.” 

“That night before the beach. If we’d somehow won and survived, I’d have looked for you after. Asked you to enter my service.” 

“I’d have turned you down,” Ryuzo said. As he was then, he’d been happier with Kosei and the others. 

“Then I’d have been forced to admit that I’ve loved you since we were children, and I’ve wished all these years that I’d made you an offer before Kosei did.” 

Ryuzo started up onto his elbows, staring at Jin’s grim face in shock. Should he feel joy instead of the confusion that consumed him? Ryuzo began to wish he wasn’t on his second gourd of sake. He tried to grab it back from Jin, who held it out of his grasp. “…You could have said all that earlier,” Ryuzo said weakly. Jin… loved him? 

“I wish I did. Not just then. When I met you again, when we duelled in that pond, when…” Jin exhaled, looking away. “Maybe things wouldn’t have come to this.” 

“That’s what you think.” Ryuzo now had no one left but Jin. Earlier, that hadn’t been the case. He rubbed a hand over his face. “There’d be consequences for using poison on the camp. The shōgun will demand your head.” 

“I know.” 

“You’re a fool.” 

“Maybe.” Jin began to straighten up, but Ryuzo grabbed his arm, holding him still. He got up on his knees and leaned in, because they were both fools, because with all the death and betrayal between them they could still turn like this to each other, to kiss the taste of sake from each other’s lips. Jin trembled under his grip, the vengeful tension shaking out from his shoulders, until with a muffled groan he pushed Ryuzo onto his back and climbed on top of him to kiss them both breathless. 

“Get off,” Ryuzo gasped as Jin made a wounded sound and nuzzled his throat, his hat scraping against the tile and coming loose. “You’re heavy, and your new armour is ugly.” 

“It was a gift, and I like it.” Jin didn’t budge. “You said I had other choices.” 

Ryuzo stroked his cheek. “You’re willing to take them?” 

“I’m willing to listen.” 

“General Qadan is running the castle defences. You can probably find him training by himself near the stables. If you can get rid of him, I know where every stash of explosive barrels is hidden. I can disable the traps. After that, if we blow up the blockade at the gate, presumably your uncle will come to save you before you get too far in over your head.” 

“He’d come to save _us_ ,” Jin corrected. “I’ll tell them you were a spy.” 

“What do the samurai think of thieves and spies?” Ryuzo said, flicking Jin on his forehead. 

“Depends on the samurai,” Jin said, bending for another kiss.

#

Jigoku Temple was _cold_. Ryuzo spent as much time as possible wrapped up in furs in the hut he’d staked out for himself, venturing out only to fish. Thanks to Yuna’s love of explosives, the iced-over lake had several new holes in it anyway, and the fish were hungry. As he pulled another decent catch out of the water, Jin said, “Ryuzo.”

Ryuzo yelped, nearly falling into the water. Damn that new armour of Jin’s. Cunningly made, it let him walk like the ghost he was rumoured to be. Jin chuckled, sitting down on a crate beside him as Ryuzo killed the fish cleanly and dropped it into the bucket. “How did things go with your uncle?” 

“Not well.” 

“Given you’re not here at the head of an army, I’d say ‘not well’ is an understatement.” Ryuzo had left Jin and Lord Shimura to their argument after retaking the castle, going north with Yuna and Taka to establish a defensive position close to the Khan at Port Izumi and wait for Jin to work things out in the south.

Jin let out a frustrated breath. “He said what we did at Castle Shimura would trouble the shōgun. That a samurai who repeatedly defied his vassal lord would be branded a traitor.” 

“What about a samurai who kills the Khan?” 

“I told him that was what I intended to do. With or without him.” Jin’s face tightened. “We had strong words, and I left.” 

Ryuzo let out a dry laugh. “It isn’t as though you’re any stranger to disappointing him right now. What was it you said before? That your uncle can disapprove all he likes when this is over?” 

“He always wanted me to be his son. Before this, he petitioned the shōgun to approve his request to adopt me.” Jin studied his hands, twisting his fingers together. “He burned the approval letter when I said I would leave.”

“Jin…” 

“I’ll do it all again. What I had to do as the Ghost, everything to this point. I still have my friends. And you.” Jin glanced at Ryuzo. “You used to laugh at me for wanting to be another man’s son. Said I was already born to enough responsibilities of my own.” 

“Those weren’t the words I used.”

“I understand the sentiment now.” Jin rubbed his hands together absently. 

“Izumi will be a hard nut to crack without your uncle.” 

“I know. Once we have a plan of attack, I’ll petition him again. Until then, we’re on our own.” 

The misery Jin wore was hard to face. Ryuzo looked back at the water and handed Jin the rod. “If you’re going to be here for a while, catch your own dinner.” 

“Only if you’re cooking.”

“Hai, hai.”

Jin took in a slow breath. “About the things we… about what happened that night in Castle Shimura—”

“Not now, Jin. Not here.” Ryuzo had been trying to avoid thinking about it himself. 

Jin set his jaw stubbornly. “Then, when?” 

“Catch yourself something to eat. Talk to your friends. Survey the port, kill the Khan—“

“ _Ryuzo_.” 

“The things I’ve done can’t be easily forgiven.”

“War has a tendency of making people do the unforgivable,” Jin said, watching the still water. “I’m neither forgiving you nor excusing you, but I’m growing tired of losing the people I care about when the real enemy is still out there.”

“I could do with a drinking partner after dinner,” Ryuzo conceded, “especially if he brings his own sake.” 

Jin huffed, though he straightened, satisfied. “I’ll talk to Kenji.”

#

Ryuzo wasn’t sure who started it, but they went from drinking sake that Jin had scavenged from an abandoned farm to rolling over the floor of the hut, kissing as they wrestled each other to be on top. Jin growled as he pinned Ryuzo near the still-warm hearth, as Ryuzo unbuckled the ugly Ghost armour from his shoulders.

Buoyed along by good sake, their bellies full, their mouths urgent against each other, it was easy to pretend for a moment that this was less messy than it was, with all that they were and had done. With each kiss, pretending grew even easier. Ryuzo concentrated on that instead of helping Jin with their clothes, easing his moans against Jin’s lips. Under his armour, Jin was lean muscle and bone and scars, mostly new. Bruising discoloured his ribs, fresh-mottled scar tissue stitched up his thighs. 

Jin grunted as Ryuzo tickled his fingertips over the wounds he could see, sparing a thought for those he could not. He pulled open belts and robes and groaned as Ryuzo spat in his palm and reached down to take them both in hand, pressing his thumbs to Ryuzo’s cheeks to kiss him as they thrust against each other. It was over too quickly. Jin moaned his name against his ear as he twitched in Ryuzo’s grip, and bit down over Ryuzo’s throat, hard enough to sting. Ryuzo yelped, bucking into the mess that Jin pulsed between them, pain and want and more pushing him easily over the edge after Jin, a burst of damning pleasure that only left him more hungry. 

Jin cleaned them up with rags and fixed their clothes as Ryuzo lay dazed on his back. He hissed as Jin sprawled against him, shoving at his shoulder. “Still too heavy,” Ryuzo complained. 

“Hmm.” Jin wouldn’t budge, slinging an arm over Ryuzo’s belly and pillowing his head on his shoulder. “I love you more than Lord Watanabe loved Kosei,” he murmured. “If you want to be a samurai, I’ll petition—“

“Help yourself first,” Ryuzo said, flicking Jin on the forehead. “Fight with your uncle any further and _you_ might end up having your clan disbanded. Branded a traitor. The shōgun might tell your uncle to ship your head back to the mainland. You’d both end up duelling dramatically somewhere, maybe in front of your father’s grave—” 

“It won’t come to that,” Jin said, though he didn’t sound so confident. He grumbled as Ryuzo shoved at his cheek, twisting until they found a fit against each other that worked. For now, this would be enough.

#

Ryuzo stacked the grill over the coals, wrapping the filleted fish in parcels of sake, miso, and soy. Autumn draped the Sakai estates in skirts of flame and gold. A blanket of brilliant red leaves covered the shaded meadow behind Ryuzo, the gentle incline leading up to the clan residence. As he set the parcels over the grill, Ryuzo said, “I heard you this time.”

Jin knelt beside him, folding his sleeved hands in his lap, as elegant and graceful as the boy Ryuzo had known. The solemn boy with a love of heights had turned into a legend, one that even Ryuzo sometimes found hard to believe. Jin patted the cask and cups beside him. “I found one of my father’s old stashes.” 

“That’s promising.” Ryuzo looked Jin curiously over. When Jin had asked Ryuzo to wait here with his armour while going off to meet his uncle in just his ronin get-up and blades, Ryuzo had been tempted to disagree. Knock Jin out and run off together, perhaps. He couldn’t imagine it ending well. “How did it go?” 

“I bore in mind your warning about keeping a hold of my temper.” 

“Did it work?” 

“I think so,” Jin said, his mouth twitching up at the edges. “The shōgun believes that my misdeeds and my merits cancel out. He won’t be disbanding Clan Sakai.”

“That’s good…?” 

“However,” Jin said, looking up at the river, “neither will he approve any possible future ascension, especially not to the position of Jitō. My uncle will have to start his own family.” 

“You can both set about repopulating the samurai numbers on the island, I suppose,” Ryuzo said, amused at the thought. 

“I’m not going to marry.” At Ryuzo’s frown, Jin said, “I’ve been allowed to remain Lord Sakai, but I’m also to be the last Lord Sakai.” 

“That’s _unfair_ ,” Ryuzo said, incredulous. “After all you’ve done?” 

“There were always going to be consequences. Some possibilities worse than others.” Jin reached out and grasped Ryuzo’s palm, squeezing it. “I would do it all again if I had to. All of it. Besides, it isn’t as damning a punishment as the shōgun or my uncle might think.” He leaned in, nudging a tentative kiss against the corner of Ryuzo’s mouth. “Whatever comes next, I hope you’d be there with me to face it.” 

Ryuzo turned, tucking his fingers under Jin’s jaw to lick into his mouth. There was so much more to be done in Tsushima, but between them, there was nothing more that needed to be said. They kissed under the deep flush of autumn as the wind kicked up around them, patterning shards of red and gold against the silver river. 

“Pay me in good sake, and I’ll think about it,” Ryuzo murmured against Jin’s lips and laughed as Jin growled and shoved him hard against his ribs. They sat together by the grill as Jin poured out sake for them both, waiting for the fish to cook.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh. I feel better now.  
> \--  
> twitter: @manic_intent  
> writing and prompt policy: https://manicintent.carrd.co/


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